Happy Home
by Cannibal King
Summary: His home wasn't empty anymore.


Title: Happy Home  
Original: Naruto  
Disclaimer: These awesome-ly awesome characters belong to Kishimoto. I wish I could be him. I would draw fun stuff between Kakashi and Iruka amongst other characters.  
Warnings: Er..Angsty Naruto, some almost cutting, and a bit o' swearing  
Pairings: None. Just Naruto being so amazingly angsty that it makes me giggle with gleeeee. 

His breath was raspy, strained; the sound was loud in the small apartment and filled it with an uncertain, quiet eeriness. It was abnormal to his usually peppy attitude and noisy antics. It was abnormal for him to be this still and withdrawn. Even the early morning hours should have taken some kind of affect on him; making him yawn or grouch or fumble through the fridge and cupboards for something edible; or maybe even have him rushing out the door in a sprint as curses tumbled from his mouth in a way to broadcast that once again he was late for class.

But no, not even the beginnings of a new day could get him riled up and somehow he was not even tired despite a night of insomnia--which of late was becoming reoccurring. Instead, he merely shifted on the rumpled but unused bed and at first stared somewhat distantly out the window at the beginning of a sunrise. He suppressed a shiver that, as a nagging at the back of his head told him, was not from the chilliness of his heaterless room or the opened window, and this time turned his gaze to the smooth flesh of his wrist. It was peaking out from beneath the sleeve of the outfit he had worn the day before and had spent the night in as well; since sleep had seemed impossible and was somewhat unwanted at the same time, he had saved himself the troubles of changing into his pajamas.

Taking a shaky breath as he stood up, still staring at the exposed wrist, he made his way to the messy kitchen. He had not noticed last night but it was beginning to smell rank from all the many containers of instant noodles left sitting out as some form of alternative decoration for the countertops along with the milk carton centerpiece for the breakfast table. He grimaced at the curdling milk but otherwise ignored it, merely walking past the table with unsure purpose in his step.

He bit his lip, gripping the knob to the drawer closest to the refrigerator and hesitated, wondering himself what he was doing; then, still unsure of his own actions, he pulled on the drawer with more force than he had intended, nearly pulling it out of it's place in the counter and causing its contents to slip out of place and bang against one another. The misplaced sound, which ripped through the otherwise silent apartment, caused him to look about timidly as though he were going to get caught and scolded for his actions. But no one was there to yell at him or question his motives. There was never anybody in the empty house; no one to greet him when he came home or ask how is day was. There was not even a person to get angry when he came home late or made messes. So why would there be one now?

Suddenly more sure of himself, he reached into the drawer and produced a steak knife, gripping it until his knuckles had gone white from the strain. He gazed at it in awe, blue eyes caressing the jagged blade with mixed emotions. He took another shaky breath and slammed the drawer shut, no longer worried about matching the apartment's intense silence. The reflection of his face bounced off of the shiny surface of the utensil and he watched himself watch himself as he shuffled back to his room, still ignoring the curdled dairy and the mountains of rubbish.

The teen's knees gave out as he sat gracelessly on the edge of his bed once again, the clock on the wall and the even more prominent sun in the sky told him that he should not be sitting there but instead already out the door and on his way to the school. It didn't matter; who was here to yell at him if he missed one day of school? No one. Nobody.

Nodding hesitantly as if to either confirm his thoughts or give himself more courage, he brought the blade up to his shaking wrist; the thoughts echoing at the back of his mind only egged him on as he pressed the sharp edge to his flesh. There was nothing but pressure and he tugged on the black plastic handle. Nothing but a thin scratch that did not even weep was left behind when he lifted the knife up. Clenching his teeth, he brought the blade up to the level of his chest, gripping the handle fiercely until his fingers turned a bright red to contrast with his white knuckles and---

"Oi! Naruto! Hurry up and get your ass on the way to school!" Sakura yelled up through the open window, her voice sounding irritated seemingly just because she had said his name.

Another girl huffed and responded somewhat loudly, "Why are you helping him out? Let the lazy bastard get yelled at."

Through the open window Naruto could almost hear Sakura lift her index finger as she began to explain her reasoning, "I'll be damned if I let him skip out on Iruka-sensei's stealth test. He can fail like the rest of us!"

"Fail? I doubt you're gonna fail, Sakura." Her companion mumbled in a somewhat envious tone.

The blonde smiled, grinning until all of his teeth were visible before dropping the forsaken knife to the floor and jumping up with a newfound energy, "Hey Sakura! How 'bout you help me out before the test!" He called out the window, leaning nearly his entire body out of it as he waved vigorously towards the girl's back.

Scoffing, the pink haired girl barely looked back over her shoulder, "I don't help out lazy people! Especially the likes of you, Naruto!"

Still grinning, Naruto grabbed his bag and his sandals, slipping them on before he even made it to the door. He gave his empty apartment one last glance and, spotting the knife on the floor, he went back over and picked it up before taking it back into the kitchen and placing it where it belonged.

His home wasn't empty anymore.


End file.
